


Can´t we just talk?

by chushane



Series: Jeremy needs therapy [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Exposition, Fluff, Gay, Guys communication is important, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy Heere is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Michael Mell Needs a Hug, Past Abuse, They´re trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chushane/pseuds/chushane
Summary: Part 2 of On your MindThey needed to talk about everything that had happened. The problem is they´re both horrible at it at both of them love to hate themselves."The comfortable atmosphere had been slowly slipping away moment by moment. Jeremy had the feeling it was gonna stay like that forever, uncomfortable and suffocating. Never going back to even near where they used to be. And it terrified him."
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Series: Jeremy needs therapy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935040
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Overthinking.

**Author's Note:**

> I´m sorry it took so long to upload this...I hope you enjoy part two! 
> 
> I´m planning on 2 chapters, but I might split the second one into two if it gets too long. Honestly, we´ll see where the wind takes me. 
> 
> If you didn´t read the first one, the summary is:  
> The SQUIP turned into Michael when Jeremy wasn´t listening to it, so it can emotionally manipulate him into being obedient. Also, it made him feel really bad for liking Michael, like...to the point Jeremy is convinced he´s a pervert undeserving of love...the first one was sad.

Jeremy didn’t like to think about the party. 

He liked to believe he’s a good person. Facing moments where we acted like absolute, for the lack of a better word, cunts is always an uncomfortable thing. You have to face the fact that you’re possibly not as good as you thought you were.  


Jeremy would never hurt Michael. It’s what he repeated like a mantra as he tried to convince himself that staying away from Michael was for his own good. If Jeremy wasn’t around him, Michael wouldn’t have to deal with Jeremy’s lingering touches and uncomfortable closeness. He wouldn’t have to deal with his “hungry” gaze as the SQUIP so helpfully described. Once he repeated that reasoning enough times in his head, it actually started to make sense, and he could pretend it made him feel better about the situation.  


For some reason, he had this idea that when he sees Michael again, it will be once everything is done and solved. And he’d forget all about his feelings, and he’d be popular, and Michael would be happy for him, and everything would go back to the way that it was. All of that shattered once he saw Michael in the bathroom. Michael wasn’t happy to see him, not really. Jeremy felt his heart drop to his stomach, while at the same time, a sense of relief washed over him. Because Michael was there, and he wasn’t happy, but he still cared. He looked so tired. It looked like life was drained out of him, with bags under his eyes, which seemed so disappointed and worried. Michael talked to him in a tone filled with anger, trying to keep Jeremy at a distance. He supposed it made sense; they hadn’t talked in...god, months. Michael was hurt. But the coldness, the distance, and the disappointment in Michaels’s demeanor only reminded him of one thing.  


The SQUIP looked awfully similar. Every timed it scolded Jeremy for doing something wrong, it was said in the same tone of anger and disappointment. And for a moment, Jeremy was filled with rage. At the SQUIP, at Michael. He thought the SQUIP was just making all that stuff up, to manipulate him, to get him to listen. But Michael really did think him pathetic. And stupid, it felt like he was being accused of not knowing how to make a decision for himself. Michael sounded like the SQUIP, the cold, manipulating SQUIP he couldn’t escape because it was logged into his mind. Accept this time he can run, because this time it’s Michael, not the SQUIP, this is real, and he can flee.  


No one likes being the asshole. No one enjoys thinking they were just defending themselves when, in reality, they were hurting someone. That night, Jeremy pushed Michael away. He called him a loser, and he left. And it took getting home for him to think it through. He wasn’t escaping the SQUIP’s abuse. He wasn’t defending himself. He wasn’t ignoring Michael for his own good. He was just a selfish asshole. And he hurt Michael.  
And he lost him again.

The morning after was possibly even worse. After he woke up, the incredible migraine hit Jeremy just as well as the realization of everything that had transpired last night. Once he learned of the fire, Jeremy became borderline hysteric. Was everyone okay? He tried contacting everyone he could while the SQUIP attempted to convince him everyone was fine. But he couldn’t trust it, not anymore. After seeing its efforts are in vain, the SQUIP finally gave up and admitted Rich was in the hospital but insisted it was in sync with Riches SQUIP. It said he’s gonna be fine. Jeremy found that hard to believe but recognized it’s as good of an answer as he’s gonna get. He checked his messages and socials. Chloe, Jenna, and Brooke were posting about how sorry they feel for Rich. So they’re fine, and Rich really is in the hospital. He checked most everyone else and, after concluding they´re okay, he finally let himself relax. He went over all the people he saw last night, trying to think of someone he might’ve missed. The train of thought had led him to one person. Michael. The SQUIP assured him Michael left after their “encounter” in the bathroom, but Jeremy didn’t want to listen. He frantically scrambled up and starts throwing on the first clothes he can grab.  


_What do you think you’re doing?_  


Jeremy merely flinched but ignored the voice. He wasn’t gonna believe a word it said until he saw Michael alive and burn-free. He was going to apologize and fix everything. Five different dramatic speeches and scenarios were already playing in his head as to how this whole thing could go.  


“You-ho must be insane!” Michael’s laughing voice called out from behind him. It was the type of laugh that was between mocking and disgust. Jeremy kept repeating; it isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t-  


“What makes you think I want to see you.” Jeremy continued to ignore it as he searched around for a pair of shoes. “Seriously, man, think about it. You’ve ignored me for two months, you’ve been acting like a creep since...I can remember. You called me a loser...you SHOVED me. “Jeremy tried humming to block out the noise. But the memory of hurting Michael repeatedly made him trip and stagger, and he became much slower in his efforts to get out.  
“Don’t pretend you care now. I know you don’t. You never did” the humming wasn’t working. But that shouldn’t matter. He knows it’s not true.  
The next time the SQUIP spoke, it sounded more like Michael than it ever had. On the verge of tears, the voice was hurt but sounded so FURIOS and so _real_ that Jeremy turned around, despite himself.  


“YOU LEFT ME THERE TO BURN!”  


The expression on Michael’s face was so...painful. So angry. It was twisted, looked so small. Jeremy could only stand there, stunned. It was harder not to listen when he was looking at it.  
He doesn’t remember what it said next. It doesn’t matter. Michael screaming the word burn at him is what kept replaying in his head. Obediently, he got back into his room and continued to do what the SQUIP told him. It usually turned back the way it usually is to order him around. That day it looked like Michael until sundown. Somewhere he maybe could rationalize that he didn’t know about the fire, that he never did anything with the intention to hurt Michael. But it didn’t change the fact that he left Michael alone. 

It’s been a month since the play. Since his dad went to convince Michael that Jeremy is still worth fighting for. It’s been a month since the two people he loves the most in the world, and the two people he’s hurt the most saved his ass. The day Michael walked in and sat down next to his hospital bed, ready to forgive, Jeremy might have collapsed into tears. Of joy that Michael is there, and relief and thankfulness. But also of such painstaking guilt and the inevitable knowledge that he... didn’t deserve a second chance. And yet Michael was there to give it.  
At first, he wanted to blame it all on the SQUIP. That would be the easy way out. “I was under control, and I didn’t know what I was doing.” But he knew that wouldn’t fix anything. There is some truth to the claim, but it wasn’t nearly that simple. So he listened to everyone talk. In a sort of hope that he’ll understand the full capacity of what he did and hope he can make up for it one day. The problem was, Michael didn’t really want to talk.  
It’s not that Michael didn’t want to talk to HIM; it’s just that Mike kinda wanted to forget everything happened and to go back to the past. He asked Jeremy to hang out, offered him support in case he needed it. When Jeremy tried to reassure him back, he dismissed it. Saying he doesn’t need it. He was putting on a brave face and a fake smile. It would be easy to pretend everything is normal. But they couldn’t do that. Too much has happened. Michael knew that, but he was scared. Jeremy could tell, but he could only guess as to what Michael was scared of. Getting him to talk, to admit that he was hurt, was really hard. He’d change the subject, avoid the conversation, or just give a very vague answer. This wasn’t helping. How could Jeremy fix things when he didn’t know what to fix. He figured he’d let Michael talk when he’s ready. Maybe Michael just needed time. So he gave him time, and time passed. And nothing.  
Michael must have thought that pretending everything was okay would calm Jeremy down or something. It didn’t. It made him even more agitated, and he didn’t know what to do. Because old Michael, the one he was really close to, would call him out on his bullshit. He’d open up, he’d tell him what’s wrong. They’d be close again, in a way where they could tell each other everything. But that wasn’t the case, which meant Michael no longer trusted him enough to talk to him. The anxiety of the situation made Jeremy jumpy and weary even more than usual. His anxiety manifested in the way his hands started shaking when he was doing mundane tasks. He couldn’t pick something up without it violently shaking in his hand. So, of course, someone was bound to notice.  


It was his dad. When Jeremy almost spilled an entire box of cereal. He and his dad were one of the rare things that were going well in his life, with both of them putting in the effort to make it a better relationship. His dad looked out for him more and tried to be more observant. He started noticing tell-tale signs when Jeremy needed someone to talk to vs. when he wanted to be left alone. And Mr. Heere gave him someone to talk to and gave him space when he wanted it. He also wore pants and tried to make breakfast, which Jeremy very much appreciated. He´d tried opening up to his dad, communicating a little more, helping around the house, and tired thanking him for being there more often. It was all he can think of doing, but he didn’t feel like it was enough. Mr. Heere tried to reassure him that “it’s okay, as long as you’re putting in the effort. And safe, as long as you’re safe”. At one point, he proposed the idea of therapy to Jeremy. It sounded scary, and Jeremy wouldn’t know how he would sell the concept of a super-computer pill being inserted into his brain to a trained professional. So he refused.  


“Easy there, fella.”  


“Ahh-sorry.” Jeremy said, his voice raspy.  


“It’s fine. We’ll clean it up.”  


They started vacuuming and picking up the spilled cereal on the floor in silence. Jeremy didn’t notice his dad starring at him.  


“Your hands are shaking.” he observed dumbly.  


“Uhh yeah, that’s been happening a lot lately.”  


“Why? You think your immunity might be down? You haven’t seen a lot of sun lately. Maybe we should get you those vitamin pills-”  


“No, no, no, I’m fine.” He paused for a moment. He figured if he’s out of ideas, asking someone might help. Although he doubted dad could help with Michael, he didn’t think he would understand. But Mr. Heere did know the kid since Jeremy’s childhood, and he often knew a lot more than he led on.  
“Dad, can I ask you something?” Jeremy said, looking up at his father, who seemed to perk up at the promise of his son opening up to him. He tried and failed to conceal his excitement, and Jeremy slightly cringed but didn’t let it show.  


“That is a question,” he pointed out. Jeremy responded with a deadpan stare to which Mr. Heere snorted “f’course.”  


“How do I get someone to open up to me?” he felt his face growing hot as he thought maybe it sounded too obvious or like a stupid question. But his father gave a thoughtful hum, leaning against the kitchen counter.  


“Well, you can never force someone to open up to you. You can only try waiting until they feel comfortable enough to do it themselves.”  


“I already tried that,” Jeremy said in a tone half annoyed, half desperate “it’s taking too long, and I just...I’m worried,” he said, the last part quieter. His dad looked at him with understanding, then tilted his head to look at a dot on the ceiling. After a minute of silence, he says.  


“Opening up takes trust and comfort. You gotta establish that with someone, make them know you’re there, with no judgment.” He paused and looked back at his slippers. They were worn out. “Giving them space is one way of doing that, reassuring another. I think the best way is to share something about yourself. Like...showing them you trust them, you’re comfortable with them. Maybe that will make them more relaxed.” He looked at Jeremy and gave a smile. “Does that help?”  
Jeremy thought for a moment. He tried not to vent to Michael since the SQUIP. He didn’t want to overwhelm him with all the things that happened. But if he was gonna do this he’d have to open up withiout...mentioning ALL the details. It made him dizzy...and he dreaded it. 

“Yeah, it did. I uhh- I’ll try that.”


	2. Of comfort and dread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I might have completely lied at the "only two chapters" thing.  
> The way I´m over-describing everything, it´s gonna stretch it out way more than planned. I´m excited about it, but also it takes me a long time to update. I´m very sorry about that, but hey, more content!  
> That being said, I´m like low-key proud of this chapter, so I really hope you enjoy it ;)

So naturally, Jeremy spent the next 3 days preparing a speech. He dug around his memories, trying to find something that would be a good start. Nothing too intense. He didn't want to overwhelm him. So saying that the SQUIP took Michael's form to emotionally manipulate him is off the table. But he needed something serious enough that it would be personal. And then he stayed up until 3am thinking and rethinking his phrasing. Or thought to change the topic. He considered writing it down at some point. They made plans for a chill hang out, and Jeremy was planning on dropping emotional trauma on the table. He shouldn't be nervous. They used to switch from a serious topic to making fun of the spy kids movies in minutes. Used to.  
Michaels house is a 5min walk from his own, so when he left around 6pm, it was already dark outside. Jeremy only threw on a light sweater and was beginning to regret that decision as the cold bit at his cheeks. He quickened his pace and found himself in front of Michael's door. He took out the spare key he had since he was 9 and hesitated. Anxiety was boiling up in his stomach, the sudden wave of embarrassment making his cheeks flush. "There's no point in delaying it. Get in. Say it. There's nothing to lose."   
_Except for your friendship. Or did you already lose that?_   
The unhelpful voice supplied.   
A shiver ran down his spine, and he suddenly felt like someone was behind him, watching. It felt as if the dark was closing in to grab at his ankles. He went to unlock the door as quick as he could manage. Once he got in, the heated room gave him a gentle hug. He got his shoes off and ran down the stairs to the familiar spacious room with an arcade carpet floor and covered wall to wall with posters, flags, and Christmas lights. All of the lights were on, the place was as warm and messy as ever, but it was empty. Jeremy slowly let his backpack fall on the floor, and he ran over to sit down in one of the beanbags in front of the TV. Michael still owned a CD player, and a bunch of Blu-Ray movies were scattered across the floor. Jeremy picked up a copy of the Matrix, a movie he knew by heart. And yet, as he waited for Michael, he acted like the description on the back was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.  
He heard a humming noise he vaguely recognized approach. The bathroom door opened to reveal Micahel, who was either already wearing his pajamas or never got out of them in the first place. Michael opening the door was promptly followed by him looking up, jumping out of his skin as he screamed;  
"AAA!"   
Then promptly realizing who is in his room, he hurried out an "Oh hi Jere, when did you get in?" in a voice so comically causal Jeremy burst out laughing. Michael was taken over by embarrassment that quickly became funny to him, joining Jeremy in the hysteria. It was one of the stupid little things that made you happy in life, moments like these.  
It felt familiar; after all, Michel was a stupid little thing that made Jeremy happy. It was a genuine laugh, and it didn't feel forced, which is more than Jeremy could say about any of the conversations they've been having for the past month. Michael made his way next to him, with a smile still on his face. He sat very close to him, his knee only an inch away from Jeremy's. The latter immediately felt shame prick up at the back of his mind and scooted away as far as he could without seeming suspicious. Michael pretended not to notice. They made comfortable small talk, turning on Discovery as background noise, and Michael went to get snacks. Jeremy took a gulp of MDR just to be sure the voice that creeped him out earlier in the night wouldn't be coming back during his confessional.   
The comfortable atmosphere had been slowly slipping away moment by moment. Jeremy had the feeling it was gonna stay like that forever, uncomfortable and suffocating. Never going back to even near where they used to be. And it terrified him.   
"Hey, dude?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Umm, I got something I need to get off my chest."  
"You do?" Michael said in a voice so cheery Jeremy felt guilty for what he was about to say.  
Michael looked up at him. After seeing the expression on Jeremy's face, his face fell slightly. But he turned his body fully towards Jeremy, giving him full attention. It felt encouraging.  
"It's uhh, it's about the SQUIP."  
"...yeah", Michael replied, his eyes drifting to the open bottle of MDR sitting next to Jeremy. Jeremy followed the movement and attempted to reassure. "I already drank it, I think I heard it earlier today, and I just... wanted to be sure".  
Michael gave him a concerned glance and a nod. Trying to convey `It's okay' without words.   
"I didn't want to tell you earlier since you went through your own fair share of trauma during the whole thing, and I didn't want to burden you or make it worse or something" his hands started sweating. He was fidgeting with his fingers, refusing to look Mike in the eyes. "but I think I need to tell someone ya know?" That was a half-truth, and Jeremy knew it. He cleared his throat. "The SQUIP it, it left marks, on my skin." He thought that sounded way too dramatic. It wasn't as serious as he was making out to be. "I m-mean you can barely see them, but-"   
"How?" Michael's voice filled with worry, but it was laced with a kind of anger that made Jeremy flinch. He hated that tone so much. Michael doesn't use it often, real Michael, anyway. Noticing, Michael moved closer and placed his hand on Jeremy's arm, trying for a silent apology. Jeremy jerked his arm away and pushed himself a little further. Michael tried his hardest not to feel offended by that. He whispered a soft apology and drew back.  
"No, you don't need to-you didn't do anything wrong I just don't-" Jeremy cut himself off, realizing he's setting everything the wrong way. "How?...well uhh it kinda...zapped," he said in a tone almost questioning "me. Usually, when I had a habit it didn't like it would make me stop by...yeah" He took in a breath, gathering the courage to look up at Michael, who looked...horrified. "IT DIDN'T HURT" Lie. "I mean...not that much anyway. And it kept me from doing annoying things" Jeremy realized he was essentially making excuses for his abuser. "... It's still fucked up of it, but I mean it's just...not as serious as I made it sound, heh." He closed his mouth, scratching an itch that wasn't there. When Jeremy didn't say anything else, Michael, unsure of how to respond, tried forcing any kind of response:  
"That's....awful." Michael paused at a loss for words. "I had no idea it could physically-"  
"Oh, I had no idea what the extent of it was" Jeremis mouth was working before his brain. He immediately regretted the sentence when Michael questioned, "It...it got worse?" Curiosity, and shock, and worry, the anger was still there, concealed better but audible. "What else could it do?"  
"NOTHING," Jeremy added quickly and was immediately aware that it sounded very unconvincing, so he helplessly added, "I'll get to it." He thought back to rehearsed speeches he was making in his bedroom and continued. "When my hands would fidget, when I'd bite my nails, when I tried to...umm look stuff up?" he gave an awkward smile at the last one and counted it as a win when he heard Michael snort. "It would last a second, it wasn't painful just kind of... like cold water being poured on you. Alerting or uuh, unpleasant...anyway, I thought he was just manipulating my brain into thinking my body was being shocked. But I guess it must've been physical. I didn't see it though, I couldn't; they're on my back. But Rich and I were in the locker room, and he pointed them out, and I checked...he has them too. So...yuh".   
"But...how? What did it do?" Confusion.  
"Umm, I don't really know. I never thought to question it, and there isn't exactly someone I can ask, so I can only guess...and I've got nothing".  
Starring at him for a moment, Michael carefully said, "It must be terrifying, not even knowing what it did to you...how it did things".  
"It is."  
"I thought," Michael looked unsure of what he was about to say. He felt ignorant, like maybe he might trigger a bad memory. "I thought you had full control of what you did, that it could just kinda...gave you directions".  
"That's what it tricked me into thinking. It would lie to me. And I didn't even realize it. The whole time I was with it, I thought I was the one in control. I wasn't, not really. It made every decision for me and gave the thin illusion of choice. "Jeremy was going on on a tangent. And it felt good, freeing, to finally explain to someone. "I think I only realized it was really the one in control at the party-" he cut off, looking at Michael like he'd just uttered a curse not meant to be spoken. "-I didn't mean to-"  
"It's fine" Michael's face was reassuring, but his voice gave him away. It was strained, and his tone was sharp. Jeremy forced back the fear that the tone sparked in him.  
"It's really not. I should apologize properly...I don't think I ever did-"  
"You did, at the play. And besides, like you said, you weren't in control-"  
"It not as simple as that" Jeremy was desperate for Michael to talk to him. "Listen, Michael, I- I'm so sorry for what I did. I know that doesn't undo it, it doesn't wipe away the tears or fixes it... but I want you to know that I'd do anything to make it right. I was in a toxic situation, but that gave me no right to treat you like trash. I lashed out at you because I was feeling used. Being miserable didn't mean I had to drag you into it as well. And-and you were there to help, and I refused-" Jeremy was getting upset. His face was going red, and his throat felt so tight it hurt.  
They went silent, Michael looking at him with a tired expression. "I already forgave you." Michael said, matter-of-fact  
"You shouldn't have, not that quickly." Jeremy said, becoming exasperated. For a moment, Michael looked annoyed, like he's gonna complain. Then as if catching himself, he quickly softened.  
"You went through so much, Jere. I get that. I forgave you because I knew you never meant any of it." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Jeremy, "You needed a friend, and I needed my friend back. And we're both still here, and we're safe. You're safe. There's no more SQUIP, nothing to be afraid of. And if you need to talk, if you want to say anything else, I'll listen...and I'll be there all the time. If you needed me at 3am, you could just hop on over here, and I'd welcome you!" He flashed Jeremy a smile that made his stomach flip. His muscles pulled into a smile, and he could practically hear the SQUIP teasing him about it. "Or I'd come there, I don't mind. We're both tired of the whole SQUIP thing, it's all anyone talks about, but here we can just be us again. Play bad sonic games and eat tortillas and smoke. I could annoy you with obscure knowledge about the life of a random singer from the 80s. Things can be good. We deserve for things to be good." Michael's voice was soft, his words sounded like honey, and Jeremy wanted to drown in the feeling. He could listen to Michael talk for hours. He moved closer, trying to capture the pure warmth of his voice. The warm feeling spreading through his body was in a constant battle with the cold dread of shame. The SQUIP had turned into Michael so many times. It teased Jeremy, bated him, tricked him. It would hug him and whisper sweet words that would turn into venomous insults. It did that until Jeremy perceived any type of affection he gave Michael as a shamefully lustful move that made Michael uncomfortable and made Jeremy a pervert. But there is no way on Earth this can be shameful. They're fingers a brushing, and Michael is really close, and he's smiling, and Jeremy feels so **nice**. In a non-sexual, god-I-wish-this-moment-could-last-forever kind of way. And Michael wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, he looked happier than he'd seen him in almost five months. So maybe the SQUIP is a liar and a manipulator and is full of shit. But he already knew that. Maybe deciding to pull his shirt off in front of Michael would be something that the SQUIP wouldn't let him live down. But nonetheless, Jeremy collected himself and offered, "I think talking is part of the good thing too. It makes me feel better to tell you what happened. Maybe if you tell me it would be better too?" He offered Michael a smile he hoped looked encouraging.  
"I ... don't have anything to tell," he insisted.  
"If you say so" Jeremy, said, hoping the disappointment in his voice isn't obvious. "I can...show you the scars, what it did...if you want".  
Michael's face went dark, but curiosity took over his features. "Only if you feel comfortable."   
Jeremy gave him a nod before turning his back to him. They undressed in front of each other before, dozens of times. After all, they grew up together. But Jeremy felt embarrassed, for so many reasons. So he avoided looking at Michael's face. Taking at the hem of his shirt, he pulled it from his back over his head, letting the fabric rest on his forearms, the sleaves the only part he didn't take off.   
Michael looked over Jeremy's shoulders. He noticed they were a lot broader than before. Feeling heat rise to his face, he focused more on markings. He found nothing but the faded freckles and moles, the ones that had always been there. He stared at them, trying to will the thoughts of kissing the little brown dots away.   
Jeremy felt Michael's gaze burn at the back of his neck. He was starting to feel a bit cold, and the silence was getting uncomfortable. "They're uhh a little hard to see, but they kinda go along the center?" He said, trying to be helpful.  
Michael snapped out of his daze a scanned the rest of Jeremy's back. Going from the very bottom, branching out upwards along his spine, where thin lines, a few shades darker than Jeremy's color. They were parallel and perfect, and there were so many it looked as though a little forest of them was gathering. "Jesus Christ" he whispered.  
"Yeah" Jeremy let out a dry laugh.   
"I mean...Jesus CHRIST, man. That's...there are so many of them".  
"Yeah, uh, I don't know if the amount of times it did it has anything to do with how many of them there are, but... I mean it did it often".  
Michael felt so much sadness overtake him. He wanted to hug Jeremy. To hold him, to pet his hair, and tell him everything is fine. He wanted to tell him how he's the strongest person he'd ever met. But Jeremy had been flinching when Michael does so much as look in his direction. But he was trusting him now, and Michael wanted to comfort him, so he very carefully asked, "Can I...can I touch them?"  
Alarms went off in Jeremy's head. Most of them saying it's a bad idea, one warning him that his face was already getting hot at the proposal, so imagine what the touch would do. Point, all of them were advising him against what his mouth actually decided to do, which is say "Sure" in a tone way too calm for what he was feeling.   
Michael reached out his right hand, slowly, hesitating before letting the tips of his fingers brush against the small of Jeremy's back. "Okay?"   
"YeAh." Jeremy cringed at his voice crack. He felt goosebumps shoot through his body at the contact.   
Michael traced the lines with a feather-light touch. Delicate, he made patterns in a soothing rhythm. Jeremy felt his neck going red. His cheeks felt like they were steaming. He fiddled with his shirt just to give his hands something to do. They were getting very sweaty, he noticed, and he tried wiping it off by clutching the fabric. For a moment, Michael thought Jeremy was weirded out. He was starring at his hands, and his breathing got quicker, but he couldn't miss how his shoulders relaxed, how his posture slumped back a little. "Is this okay?" Jermy gave him a small nod. Michael pushed his luck and pressed a little harder, bringing up his other hand and rubbing circles in Jeremy's sides. Michael looked at Jeremy for a reaction and saw him trying to bite back a smile. He took that as a job well done and let himself feel prideful. He focused on his hands, on how and where to move them. The way Jeremy's muscles were relaxing under his fingers. It was intoxicating how content it all felt.   
Meanwhile, Jeremy's mind has been blank for the past 5 minutes. It's just been an undescribable calmness and a dopey, dumb kind of happiness. Michael's hands were warm and lovely, they felt so soft. Only when he focused on the massage he was getting that Jeremy realized; Michael was touching him.  
For a very long time.  
With his bare hands, on Jeremy's bare skin.  
Jeremy was shirtless.   
And Michael's hands are firmly holding him.  
And they're exploring Jeremy back very generously.  
It hit Jeremy, one by one, while he was starring at the wall in front of him. Each revelation feeling like a slap to the face with a wet towel.   
His mind wasn't so blank anymore. Oh god, no, now there were more thoughts and dumb ideas than he could ever hope to process. His entire body felt like it was on fire. He was getting...uncomfortable in the position he was sitting in. Before the ridiculousness of the situation could make him laugh, the cold dread came down on him like rain.  
 _I told you so. You can't have anything nice without turning it to filth. Imagine if he knew what you were thinking._  
It lasted a minute, from him realizing what he'd gotten himself into, to the voice, to the phone ringing. He didn't even have time to fully process any of the 100 emotions that flew through him. He felt horny, that was for sure. And then self-hatred, and then relief, and then confusion as to how seeing "Papa Smurf" light up his phone managed to make him feel any sort of relief at all.   
Michael retreated his hands, Jeremy answered the phone. His dad made a habit of calling him each night at 9pm to check where he is. Michael wasn't listening. He busied himself with cleaning up the leftover food on the tray, taking it back to the kitchen. If he did listen, he wouldn't have bought Jeremy's excuse that his dad wanted him home. He would have been more suspicious at Jeremy clumsily gathering his things and going out with a very rushed goodbye. Instead, he figured Mr. Heere accidentally set the microwave on fire. Again. And wrote it off as Jeremy running to help. He was tired, so he brushed his teeth and laid in the softness of his blankets. The thought of Jeremy's warmth from earlier rocking him to sleep.

Jeremy laid on his bed for a long time. Starred up at the ceiling fan. He was thinking. Overthinking, as he often does. He played and replayed parts of that evening in his head. Feeling guilt and happiness and a little lost. He didn't get want he wanted. Michael barely said anything about himself. But he found a comforting thought in the fact that, at the very least. They made progress, and that was important. He doesn't know when he fell asleep.


	3. Theater kids don´t know how to solve problems if it´s not dramatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m having too much fun writing this, and as a result, all who want this to end already must suffer. I am truly sorry, I am a mess. But good news: I now officially know that there are definitely gonna be 5 chapters and no more or less so...  
> Also, rereading old chapters is a pain I made so many grammatical mistakes I will not rest until I fix them.

The cocoa was threatening to spill over. Jeremy wrapped both hands around the mug in an attempt to steady it, but it was in vain. ´Maybe it is iron deficiency,´ Jeremy thought, frowning at his shaking hands.  
Sitting on the Mell´s kitchen counter, he was watching as Michael shuffled around looking for bowls. Mike promised he would make some brand new snacks with recipes he found, and they´d have a fancy movie night or some shit. He ended up just popping some popcorn and baking just-add-water-and-eggs brownies he bought. Since they had the talk, things were a lot less awkward. The conversations don´t feel as forced, less tense. Still, neither of them opened up any more than they had that night. What also didn´t help is that Jeremy was ten times more conflicted now. He knows craving touches and wanting more than what they already have is...wrong, but Michael seemed so content and happy last time, and it felt so lovely. So what was he to do? Half of the time, he´d indulge in it and allow himself to linger, and then feel like shit after. The other half, he´d force himself to keep one meter away at all times, and he´d feel like shit after that too. He could no longer tell what was acceptable but just exaggerated by the SQUIP and what was actually crossing a line. “Can you go pull out the blankets while I find us drinks?” Michael asked, snapping Jeremy from staring at an ant on the floor. “Huh?”

“Blankets, and pillows, as many as you can find!” reading the confusion on Jeremy´s face, he added, “We´re gonna make a fort,” smiling ear to ear like a child. Jeremy found it annoyingly endearing. He placed the mug on the counter next to him and hopped off, going down to Michael´s basement. He started looking through the shelves, taking out anything that seemed cozy enough. Like the rest of Michael´s room, the closets were cluttered and messy, so Jeremy had to blindly stick his arms elbow deep into the piles of...stuff. While feeling around for something that might have been a pillow or a feather boa, Jeremy went to move some things out of the way so he could get to it. He grabbed what looked like a book that was getting in his way and took it out. Only while setting it next to him did he notice what it was. It was a photo album! Or...scrapbook. Both. Michael´s moms were the crafty and sentimental kind. They always kept every piece of a trip and put hours of effort into laying it out in albums and books in an aesthetically pleasing way. “Memories are all we have in life,” he recalled. So they tried to get Michael to make one, or Michael wanted to copy them, Jeremy doesn´t know. The point is, Michael got a little yellow photo album, and every picture, ticket, or card he got, he´d store it inside. Jeremy remembers him putting in an access card to an amusement park that wasn´t all that impressive. He´s pretty sure there´s a lottery ticket that Michael didn´t even win somewhere in there. “Stupid little things that made me happy,” he remembers Michael saying. His chest bloomed with nostalgia, the kind of pleasant memory paired with longing for how simple it all used to be. The feeling spread from the tips of his toes to his cheeks. He felt all warm as he picked it up and cradled it tenderly. Weird, you´d think it´d be dustier. Unless Michael was looking at it from time to time. That thought made him happy. So he opened it, and his blood ran cold.

Empty.

There was nothing, not a ticket, not a picture, not a Yu-Gi-Oh card.   
´He probably just moved it all somewhere else,´ the logical part of his brain supplied. But that didn´t feel right. His gut was telling him this is a red flag. He went through the album, trying to find something. Somewhere around half of the book, finally he found pictures. He noticed they were either super old ones, from kindergarten or ones from a year or two back. Everything in the middle was gone. He looked around the closet. Maybe it fell out? But he didn´t see a trace of anything. One picture caught his attention. It was kinda melted and a little burned. Like someone accidentally held it up to a candle and stomped it out when it started burning. Jeremy took it out of its casing and held it up to get a better look.

"I really need to clean all of this out," Jeremy jolted when he heard Michael's voice from behind him. He was just kinda standing there, snack tray in hands, his expression giving off the vibes that he really didn't wanna find himself in this situation. 

"Yeah."

It was all Jeremy could say. He was kinda lost, his brain lagging, not sure how he could go about this conversation without seeming like he's reading into it way too much. "You remember the first time we went to a concert? Weird Al," he giggled and looked up at Michael. He set the tray down in front of the tv and was now shuffling around, looking at his feet, avoiding eye contact. Jeremy frowned but continued:  
"I was sure you kept the tickets. 'Cause I used to make fun of you for keeping practically every candy wrapper you had." It was a cute memory when he thought about it. Michael just did a lot of endearing weird little things Jeremy loved. "I actually thought it was nice. I like having things to look back on. I umm, actually have a little picture of us as kids on my table." He blushed at that, wasn't sure why, but it seemed embarrassing to admit. Getting quiet, added, "It was actually kind of comforting to have during the whole SQUIP thing." Michael looked at him, eyes wide, guilt plastered on his face. 

"Really?"

"Yeah...I guess what I'm getting at is that I wanted to see some of the stuff you kept. Or photos or something. For nostalgia or whatever." He picked up the photo album by one wing and let it swing helplessly in his hand. "But the album was empty so-" Jeremy shrugged, letting it fall on the floor.  
Michael stayed silent for a few moments. He walked over and sat next to Jeremy but refused to look at him in the eyes, cleaning up the mess Jeremy made. Michael was buying himself time, thinking of what to say. Jeremy patiently waited for a response, helping with the tidying and taking the blankets he found over to the beanbags.   
"Listen, when the whole...thing happened," Michael begun. Jeremy looked up at him, hopeful. "I was confused. At first, I thought you were mad- That I did something wrong and you were ignoring me. But then I figured out it was the SQUIP, and I got upset because...you said you wanted to be cool and you not talking to me meant that....that I'm not part of the life you want." Michael pretended to look at the side of the room opposite of Jeremy in hopes of hiding the tears prickling up in his eyes. He counted to 10 to regulate his breathing. Jeremy was NOT gonna see him crying, not now. "Michael-"   
Before Jeremy could apologize or blame himself or something else equally stupid, Michael continued.  
"That's absurd, I know. So I blamed it all on the SQUIP. It was its fault, and I set out to find proof so...so I can,"  
'feel less awful about myself `  
"help you. And then I saw you in the bathroom. And what happened happened and I just felt so,"  
'useless, unwanted, pathetic, alone...  
"furious. And I got petty, and I thought that letting my anger out in a way where I don't hurt...anyone would be like... I don't know. I just thought that like if you didn't want me in your life, I shouldn't want you in mine either. So I burned it, like some pictures and tickets and whatever. Like I said, I was petty."

Jeremy sat there, his eyes wide. He felt like he might be twitching. All of his efforts to hear Michael's side, for Michael to open up to him finally lead to something, and it's not what he wanted after all. Because he was supposed to be mad at himself, make himself better, but he was just mad at Michael instead. 

"That was real mature of you." He said, annoyance evident in his voice. Michael looked up at him, surprised. To be honest, Jeremy was surprised too. He's been dancing on glass around Michael on the belief that if he does one thing wrong, Michael will realize what a shit person he was and leave. Now he just felt annoyed at that belief because even when SQUIPED, Jeremy never lost hope that Michael would be there when he came back. But Michael clearly didn't even count on him coming back.

"Excuse me?" Michael sounded more genuinely flabbergasted than annoyed. 

"We spent years collecting all of that. It meant a lot to me. I thought it did to you too, but I guess I was wrong."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Whatever carefully crafted emotional defense Michael was putting up for months completely fell down. Whatever patience, whether it was fake or not, slipped away.

"Oh, you wanna talk about years of friendship being thrown away. Hmm, let me see." Michael said, anger and annoyance taking over his voice. There was a hint of amusement, too. "Maybe the fact that the moment you got the SQUIP, you stopped talking to me without an explanation. Or maybe it was the fact that even after that, I showed you I was proud and wanted to celebrate, you pretended like you didn't hear me and walked away. Which meant you COULD talk to me, you just CHOSE not to!" Michael was getting more heated by the second, not even noticing Jeremy getting increasingly horrified. "And then I convince myself it's the SQUIP, not you," he let out a dry laugh, "and I try to offer you help. WHILE your SQUIP wasn't even working, mind you. And you not only call me a loser," Jeremy heard all of this before. But in the last week and a half, he'd managed to convince himself the SQUIP made all of it up. Now, the reality of the situation made all the anger he previously had go away. "but were also so stubborn that you made up a whole scenario where I was just jealous and making all of it up and believed a fucking SUPERCOMPUTER over a friend who's been there for you non-stop for 12 goddamn years!!" 

"And maybe it wasn't the SQUIP, and maybe it isn't even you, because now that everything's over, you still act like you don't want to be around me! You can't look at me in the eyes. You run away whenever I so much as accidentally bump into you. God, our conversations have been just small talk. I feel like I don't know anything about you anymore!" The tears he repressed earlier were coming back to choke him, his eyes watering and his voice getting strained. "I mean, I know it's selfish of me to expect you to be with me all the time, but at least have the decency to tell me! You've got new friends! Who are cool and who like you and...they were in your plan. When you were ignoring me, you were talking to them. But GOD, at least tell me instead of keeping up this fake ass charade of being a friend! Do you actually care? Or do you feel like losing me would be losing your childhood? You were a loser, Jeremy, admit it I could've been anyone! Any person that could've come along would've been fine as longs as you weren't alone. There's nothing you actually like about me, there's nothing about me that makes you wanna stay-"  
the tightness in his throat made him lose whatever thought he had next. He gave up the fight, pretending to be okay with the whole thing, to be okay alone, faking patience. It was exhausting. He was just tired. He didn't wanna yell anymore or be angry. He just wanted to curl up and sleep until it all passes. The adrenaline and anger quickly drained from his body, he gave up. Gave up on yelling, gave up on pretending to be okay, and cried. Strangled sobs escaped his throat, and he sat back down. His face felt hot, like he had a fever.   
The tension in Jeremy's muscles never left him, but strangely, and maybe sadistically, he relaxed when Michael's demeanor went from angry to...self-deprecating. The SQUIP never did that. It always made sure all the blame was on Jeremy and not on Michael's self-loathing. Jeremy knew Michael got self-conscious, cripplingly so. He thought it was absurd. How can someone as fun and wholesome and _pretty_ as that ever think of themselves as anything but? He forgot that about Michael, so focused on his friend hating him and hating himself. But he just learned it again. Got a reminder. So maybe he and Michael drifted apart, maybe they don't know each other anymore. But that meant that they could get to know each other all over again. And that thought blossomed in Jeremy's heart, and for the first time in months, he knew what to do. 

As gently and steady as he could, he stood up from where he was sitting and went over to Michael, careful not to make sudden movements. Michael caved in on himself, his arms resting on his knees, holding his glasses in one hand while wiping tears with the other. Softy, as soft as he could manage, he whispered: "Michael?"  
Michael made no indication that he even heard Jeremy. All he could hear was hitched breath.

"Michael, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't honest. I'm sorry I made you feel like you're not enough. I'm sorry for hurting you just to spare myself from having to admit I was wrong." Michael hadn't moved a bit, but his crying got quieter.

"I know I don't deserve it... but would you let me explain? Would you let me make it up to you?" 

Michael looked up, wiping tears away with the hem of his sleave. He was too tired to be manipulated again, but he was too fragile to be alone. 

"Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback and comments are appreciated.


	4. Like adults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m terribly sorry this took so long to post. But as a treat, have a long-ass chapter.

The water was cold. It felt unpleasant, shocking Michael's face, which was warm as a furnace after sobbing for a good 15 minutes. The faucet running provided a rhythmic hum Michael could latch onto to steady his breathing. They'd been arguing on the floor of Michale's cluttered room. Jeremy's legs stiffened, and the sweat and tension in Michaels's shoulders were getting uncomfortable. So Michael went to collect himself in the bathroom, came back, ate all the snacks from the snack tray out of stress while Jeremy offered to clean up the mess they've made. The domestic and relaxed atmosphere of just allowing themselves silence and time to clear the mess was much needed by both. It allowed them to think over their words and the break to collect and process the flood of emotions they experienced.   
So there they were, sitting across from each other on the beanbags, ready to have a conversation. Like adults. After both of them staged a tantrum.   
"I'm listening," Michael said, sighing. His voice was tense and raspy, the tears he shed evident in the tired tone of his voice.   
"I don't wanna make this about me, again. I really don't. But I feel like I owe to you to be honest. You deserve to know...everything." He looked at the ground. Nausea took over, he got a little light-headed. Like ripping off a band-aid, right? He has to do it eventually.   
"Can I uh, just get a sip of Red...just in case?"  
Michael handed him the bottle, he took a sip or two. Or the entire bottle. Buying himself time and thinking of how to start. 

"So..uh. Last year, when my parents got divorced, I was...so confused. I thought that was what I wanted. I mean, I always blamed mom for all the problems that I had in life. I was insecure because she insulted me. I was shy because she made me feel insecure. She and dad fought because I wasn't good enough, and I wasn't good enough because she made me that way. It was always so simple to pin everything on the way she raised me. And there is some truth to that, but it's more complicated." Jeremy paused. It hurt to remember her. "It was easy to be angry at her while not trying to better myself. I thought I wanted her to leave, and once she did, I would be free of her breathing down my neck. I'd be able to...get better, do SOMETHING without her making me feel insecure about every choice I make. But I expected," he huffed, annoyed, "I wanted, for her to put up a fight. To finally admit she was wrong and that we won and we're gonna be better once she's gone...but she didn't. Once it was over, she just...left. And she didn't call again." Jeremy got quieter as he went on. Michael noticed the way Jeremy played with his hands as he searched for the right words. "That stung a lot. Because she just truly didn't care. It made no difference to her whether we're in her life or not. She made no protest...showed no sign of even missing me." His voice was cracking, and his eyes started to sting. But he cleared his throat and continued.  
"It didn't feel like I wanted it to feel. It just felt like my biggest excuse for not putting in the effort to improve myself was gone. And she just left me with all these problems she created, and it made no difference to her. AND she got rid of me and dad, which she SAID were like her...two biggest failures. "He stared off into the distance.  
"I was so angry, and betrayed, and weak, and I had no idea what to do. But out of spite, I pretended like I was the one that didn't care. Because if I cared, it would mean she won. 

For some reason, I thought once she left, so would the rest of my problems. But she was gone and I was still insecure, I still couldn't break out of my shell and meet new people. The biggest thing I did was join the theatre group, and the response to that wasn't exactly..." he made a grimace, which he hoped explained his point.   
"I started overthinking, as usual. And I caved in on myself. I thought that I was...unlovable, basic, useless, and uninteresting. Real-life backed that up for me. My own mother left me without complaint, I had only one friend, and no one else at school could stand me. I felt so lonely. And...yes, you liked me but...you only did because you're the same. You also didn't have any other friends. But for you, it was different. I didn't have friends because I was basic. You didn't because...because you're smart and weird, and you don't care about being popular or what other people think of you. You do what's good and what's fun, and you don't care what people think about it. You didn't have friends because people were too far up their own asses in social status to realize you're amazing. I didn't have anyone because there's...nothing interesting about me. And one day, when you meet better people...you were gonna realize that. You were gonna realize that I'm just a bland, boring Jewish boy from New Jersey who had absolutely nothing special to show. And you were gonna leave." Michael looked like he was about to interrupt, so Jeremy took a deep breath and loudly cut him off. "And I tried to talk to you about it, I really did, but you didn't see it how I saw it. You thought the moment we got to college, everything would be amazing, but I wasn't willing to wait that long. You were fine with being a loser, at least you seemed like it, but it felt suffocating for me. Like I was traped to live one way my entire life, and if I didn't do something about it right at that moment, it was gonna stay like that forever. I'd end up alone and...like dad. You didn't get it. I think you tried, but you couldn't. So I got the SQUIP. Because I felt lonely. Because I felt like no one liked me. Because I was scared I was going to be left in the dust." 

"But nothing was going the way I expected, and neither did the SQUIP. I thought it would be easy from then on, I thought it would tell me the answer, and I just follow it. I didn't realize there were sacrifices and consequences more important than the outcome. I didn't realize it had an ulterior motive. I was lost and naive and hurt, and I just wanted it to end. But it was worse than before. It would point out flaws I didn't even notice were there before. It would make sure they were engraved in my mind, that I don't forget how everything I do is awful. It would break me down over and over again until I was so fragile that it could shape me into what it wanted. It would shock me, insult me, abuse me, make me exercise until I pass out, sometimes deprive me of things I NEED, it would do anything to make sure my self-esteem was low enough for it to do whatever it wanted... so when it said that in order to get better I need to ditch everything from my old life...including you-"

"You agreed."

"Yeah. I regret that—more than I regret anything else in my life. But I was so desperate for things to change. I was so tired and wasn't thinking clearly from everything it did...I didn't know what I was giving up." There was a beat of silence. The faint sound of cars passing by giving a rhythm to the dreadful mood.   
"I...I think I understand better now. What you went through. I get it."  
Jeremy smiled weakly, he was doubtful of it, but he didn't think this was the time to point it out.  
"I'm sorry you went through all that. You didn't deserve to be treated like that, by your mom or the SQUIP everything...everything they said is bullshit, you know that, right?"  
"I know," Jeremy whispered. He recalled nights where his parents fighting got too much when his mother became overbearing. Michael was always an escape. Someone who was a pillar of strength when he needed support. "You always listened, Michael. You were there. You comforted me, and you made me feel safe in a time where I was so lost. And when I went down the wrong road, you tried your best despite me hurting you. I'm sorry I didn't stop the SQUIP. I'm sorry I let it convince me into ignoring you. I'm sorry for not realizing what you're worth to me until it was too late. I...I really am sorry, Michael. "   
"...You said earlier that you knew you were my only friend. But that you thought I would leave you when I found something better. You said that's one of the reasons you took the SQUIP in the first place."

"Yeah." 

Michael stared at him, a tiny hint of disbelief on his face. Like Jeremy was missing a massive chunk of self-awareness.  
"You-you do realize how you made that fear into reality for me?"  
Jeremy stood. Because there was nothing else, he could think to do. He never thought of it that way. He never realized in all of his fear of abandonment, which ultimately never happened because even after doing horrible shit Michael stuck by him. He made his own fears someone else's reality. Michael, he made it real for Michael. That made it worse. He never even stopped to think about how this turned out for him. He got out of it with no repercussions. No one was arresting him for almost ending the world. No one was angry at him for causing the SQUIP to spread. In fact, now he had more friends than ever, his father wasn't grounding him, his best friend didn't even hold him accountable because.....

Because he was scared Jeremy would do it again.

That's what Michael was scared of. Michael was going through the same thing he went through when his mother left. `If someone already left, if it already happened once. Who's the say it won't happen again?`   
"Michael...I am so so sorry. I didn't realize how much...I never thought about-" For the first time during the entire conversation, he looked at Michael directly in the eyes. "I really am a selfish asshole, aren't I?"  
Despite himself, Michael laughed. Involuntary, but blunt and honest.  
"No, it's just...you really can be self-centered."  
"I want to work on that, though," Jeremy confessed, and it might have been the most genuine thing he'd said all night.   
Jeremy took another sip of Red. It was a bad idea. His throat got scratchy whenever he talked too long without a break, and the sugar and bubbles were not making it any more pleasant. To be honest, his brain was running cold. He didn't know what to say next or how to even continue. Luckily, Michael felt like taking over.  
"I assumed you just got a stick up your ass, to be honest."  
Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him.  
"When you first started ignoring me, when you literally left...mid conversation and looked right through me... If I'm being honest, that would've been funny if it didn't hurt that much. Like, imagine talking to someone and leaving mid-conversation with no explanation just-"  
Michael let his face dead-pan, turned around in his beanbag, and faked leaving. Jeremy chuckled.  
"Anyway, where was I...oh yeah. So I got pissed, obviously, and started obsessively researching anything that could get you back to normal again. Because being without you just...I couldn't handle it:" Michael looked away, ashamed,  
"I didn't do that well without you either." Jeremy offered with a weak smile.  
Michael pulled at his fingers, scratching his hands. He was embarrassed, scared. He took a deep breath, and it felt like labor.   
"I started...researching another reason why you...why you're acting like this because if there wasn't one..." He swallowed back the sadness clawing at his throat and continued. "That would mean that you just...left because you couldn't h- because I wasn't...cool enough to keep around."   
"Michael-"  
"So-so at the party...when you...when you left the bathroom." Michael seemed to be having a hard time talking. He was still emotional from before, and it felt like tears might come back at any second.   
"I had a breakdown. I don't know how long I cried, but I was just in the bathtub for so long, and I spiraled into self-hatred as I was hyperventilating. And I wished more than anything that...  
That you would knock on the door. Tell me you regretted it. Tell me you didn't mean it. But you never did... My best friend...of 12 years just abandoned me. For a girl, to be popular. Because he had new friends now...I was so expendable to someone I love. Even after everything we've been through." His lip was trembling, and his vision was getting cloudy. If he kept talking, he'd break down again. So he shut his mouth.  
"That's not true, Michael, none of that," Jeremy said after a pause. He knew it wasn't enough. He knew he should have tried for something better. But he couldn't. He didn't know what to say for himself, didn't know how to comfort Michael.   
"Well, you sure made me feel like it was. I mean, seriously, Jeremy, it could have been anyone. You were so alone and desperate for a friend...I just happened to be there."  
Jeremy looked at the boy in front of him. He seemed so small, fragile. Kinda cute. That's probably bad. But he was pouty and looked tired, and Jeremy wasn't to blame that Michael looked cute even when upset. He smiled fondly, felt heat prick at his cheeks.  
"No...I think if you weren't there, it would have been no one." Michael raised his eyebrows in a sarcastic sort of disbelief. "I'm serious," Jeremy continued. "I have no idea what I did to deserve the universe sending you where it did when it did. Because it sent me the most...amazing person I could have asked for...and he even wanted to stay with me.   
You are so....intelligent, and fun, bubbly, and passionate and...and breathtaking." He said that last part a bit too wistfully, so he cleared his throat before he continued. "I never understood why you chose me. When you could have played with any other kid on that playground, why you chose bland, boring Jeremy. But I'm glad you did because knowing you is...honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me. I have no idea where I'd be without you."   
Michael looked at him, with eyes more vulnerable than he's looked in months. So full of emotion, he looked like he might explode.  
"Probably dead." Michael supplied. Jeremy let out a breathy laugh.  
"Deffinently."  
There was a moment of silence. It felt awkward but... a good kind of awkward. Michael cleared his throat.  
"What kind of...what kind of stuff did SQUIP say to you?"   
"Oh, you know uh...that everything about me was terrible...that my acne was disgusting that I looked sick and pale that my thumbs are shaped weird? That my voice is annoying, that my posture is awful, that the way I stand is awkward, that the fact that you could see my ribs was gross. That my legs look weird when I stand, that I masturbate too much...It actually forbid me from doing that at all."  
"That sucks,"  
"Yeah"  
"I think it's actually bad for you because like it reliefs stress and-"  
"Yeah, yeah, I got that."  
Awkward silence.  
"I didn't need the SQUIP."  
"I know Michael, that's why you're stron-"  
"No, I mean, I didn't need the SQUIP to think...pretty much all of those about myself. My brain just kinda does it...naturally. By itself."  
"Oh."  
"Hmm."  
They both looked off into the distance. Jeremy felt like he should say something.  
"Well, umm, you said that what the SQUIP said to me was bullshit. Like, it only did that to make me feel weak enough to manipulate."  
"Yup."  
Jeremy shuffled around his beanbag.   
"What I'm getting at is that...if what the SQUIP said to me was bullshit, and we all agree that it is, then whatever your brain said to you is also bullshit."  
Michael looked over, playing with the hem of his hoodie. "Yeah...yeah, that makes sense."  
Jeremy focused on the way Michael's fingers ran over the fabric.  
"What kind of bullshit did your brain say to you?"  
"Oh uh, you know...That I'm fat...that no one would ever find me attractive. That being loud makes me annoying. My interests are lame that uhh...that you..." He caved in on himself  
"That you made the right call to leave me."  
"Michael I-"  
"I thought that burning down our memories would make me feel better...that it would feel like getting rid of a toxic person or..or like revenge. It just felt like shit instead."  
Michael. Fantastic Michael with the most addicting smile, an amazing body, and beautiful eyes. Who was fo funny and intelligent and caring and selfless...thought he wasn't good enough for fucking Jeremy, who was dumb enough to fall for the SQUIP. Michael was amazing, and Jeremy thought about him...constantly. Day and night. 24/7. He loved Michael more than anything on this planet Earth. Tonight...Michal seemed so distant, so quiet, not at all like himself. Jeremy wanted to pull him close, to kiss his forehead to tell him sweet, honeyed things he likes about him. He wanted to pull close until he couldn't get closer and not let go. Something was running down his face. Why is he crying??  
"I...I really wanna hug you right now."  
Michael looked up at Jeremy. His face twisted in a grimace that looked like he was gonna go into uncontrollable sobs any second.   
"Bring it in, Jere-bear," Michael said, outstretching his arms and letting himself smile as wide as he can. Jeremy practically fell into Michael's arms. Resting his head on Michael's chest, he tightened his grip around Micheal as much as he could. In turn, Michael rested his arms on Jeremy's back.  
They said nothing more, Jeremy rubbing soothing circles in Michael's back, sitting more upright after a while so he can move to stroke Michael's hair. They lay there, on the beanbag, just holding each other for a while. It felt like all they needed. It felt like all the words just said didn't hold a candle to how much tenderness and honesty was in holding each other close. Jeremy looked down at Michael resting his head on his shoulder. He looked content. His classes were crooked, and his body completely relaxed. Jeremy felt...safe again. Sweet, pure joy blooming in his heart. God, Michael was right, wasn't he? All the things the SQUIP told him about being wrong, or dirty or...all of it was bullshit. Jeremy held Michael a little tighter, allowing himself to be comfortable and happy for the first time in a while.   
"I'm sorry for what I put you through. I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't good enough. I promise I'll fix whatever I've broken," Jeremy said, barely above a whisper.  
"I'd like that...and I'm sorry for your mom, and for not understanding, and for everything the SQUIP made you think. None of it is true. You're beautiful, Jere. I want...I want us to get better."  
"Me too." Jeremy ran his fingers through Michaels's hair and looked up at the ceiling "Can we do thins together...Can we forget all the SQUIP told me about you hating me, and you forget your brain told you I hated you and just...work together to be there again, and be honest again."  
"Mmmphcourse...perfect," Michael said from where his face was buried in Jeremy's clothes. A second passed, where Jeremy felt like he could breathe again like everything was right and as it should be-  
"Wait, the SQUIP told you what?"  
Michael was looking at him, hair a mess, glasses crooked. He was adorable. Jeremy wanted to kiss him or just hold him forever. He could do that. He could write that off as nothing and just continue to enjoy the rest of the evening. But he just said they have to be honest..and work to be better. This means the one thing he's been avoiding to tell Michael is about to bite him in the ass. He took a deep breath.  
"I...I have to tell you one more thing. But please, Michael, whatever I say next, please promise me you'll still be there for us to get better...together."  
Michael sat up straight, fixed his glasses. Jeremy followed suit.  
"Alright...I promise."  
`This is it. This is where the world ends.`  
"The SQUIP would transform to look like you." Jeremy blurted out.  
Michael blinked once. Twice.  
"Come again?"  
"The SQUIP...when I did something I didn't like...or wanted to convince me to do something I didn't want...would morph to look like you and would...get creative with it."  
Michael stared, eyes wide.   
"I..."  
"And it got worse."  
"Wait, wait, wait before it gets worse explain how-why-wha-"  
Michael was confused, not that Jeremy could blame him. So he backtracked, slowed down.  
God, he just wanted to get this over with.  
"So...like the SQUIP could change its appearance. In a second, and what it did...often is...it would make itself look exactly like you. And sound exactly like you, act exactly like you. I mean, the thing had access to like most parts of my brain, it probably went through all my memories and like...crafted a perfect impression of you."  
Michael opened his mouth, only to close it. He was almost impressed with what it could do, just...mostly terrified.   
"And whenever I did something it didn't like or when I disobeyed it or just...attempted to do something of my own accord, it would change its appearance to look like you. It knew I trusted you, it knew I value your opinion the most, so it would...it would talk like you, act like you. Make it seem like I'm really talking to YOU." He paused. "And then he'd... he'd tell me I'm useless, that I'm ugly, that I'm annoying. It would ridicule me for making a mistake or convince me I'm so unlikeable that showing my face in front of you would make you hate me. Every time I thought of talking to you, going back to you, every time I did something bad, it would make me think you hate me. It would make me think you'd never want to see my face again."  
Jeremy almost said all that in one breath. Abruptly stopping, he gulped for air. Michael sat there, stunned.  
"CHRIST Jeremy-"Michael started, looking around as if the words right words would appear on a wall somewhere. But they never came, so he slumped wordlessly.   
"But as I said, it got worse."   
Something between a concerned squeak and a scared whine escaped Michael's mouth. Jeremy found it funny for a moment before realizing this is it. This is the ONE thing he's been dreading. Oh god, he feels dizzy. He might pass out. Maybe that would be for the best, then he wouldn't have to say it. Now that he thinks about it, this might be the worst possible way to confess your love to someone. `Hey, so I realized I was gay for you when a hologram used your appearance to abuse me.` OMG, that is awful. He should back out. Fuck, he can't, he just said something about it getting worse.   
All those thoughts ran through Jeremy's head in a matter of seconds. Uncomfortable, painful seconds where Michael was staring at him, urging him to continue, Jeremy gulped.   
"So uh," his voice was shaking. He was pretty sure his whole body was too. "Umm, one...aspect of-of what he learned about you...from my brain. Or rather, my memories, since like- all of my memories are from my perspective..obviously I mean who else perspective would it-" he cleared his throat. The room was getting warm. "So uhh YES, it saw things from my perspective, and what it doesn't have, and I do is denial, you know? Like a computer can't like to itself, but a human can? I don't know. That made sense in my head." He was stalling, and it was making him sound like a dumbass. "What I'm trying to say it, it saw all of my thought from a very unfiltered and blunt standpoint, and the fact was that I'm-"  
He was looking at anything but Michael, his hands sweating so much he dried, wiping them against his legs, but the constant rubbing just made his palms feel scratched.   
"That I like-  
Oh god, this is so much scarier than I imagined."  
Michael reached out, placing his soft hand on top of   
Jeremy's where it rested on his knee. Jeremy looked up. Michael had an encouraging, gentle smile tugging at his lips, his eyes squinting a little in a way that made them look kind. Like they're shining. Suddenly, the rest of the world evaporated, and it was just Michael. Michaels hand, Michales eyes, Michaels smile, and everything seemed easy.  
"I'm in love with you." Jeremy's voice was longing, whistful, but deprived of any fear and anxiety that was building up inside of him for months. Of course, that only lasted a moment before his brain panicked at how nonchalantly he said that. Like it wasn't the driving force behind every overthinking session he's had in the past half a year. His eyes widened, pulling his hand away from where it was underneath Michaels. He immediately started stuttering his way through the rest of the story.  
"So uhhh yeah that's about...um well not really what I was- what I wanted- what I was getting at is that it used that against me. Like it would umm talk to me like you would, but it would also throw in some...stuff is made to make me think that you like me? Umm, and when I like started to believe it or indulge in it-  
Wh-which is stupid, I know. Haha, I shouldn't have...oh god, I shouldn't have fallen for that." Embarrassed, Jeremy hid his burning face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. But allowing for silence meant allowing Michael a chance at a reaction. Which was terrifying, so he continued talking.  
"But anyway! When I'd believe it, it would do the awful stuff. So like the bullying and you hating me business. Except now it had another thing to add as to why you would hate me. Because not only did I like you but I was...I was indulging myself when I let it make...you liking me seem real.  
And now you know...I mean, you don't know all the details. I wouldn't wanna- then you'd DEFFINENTLY hate me...Why did I say that? That was such a stupid thing to say I'm so sorry-"  
Two hands firmly gripped Jeremy's shoulders. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, and he was positive Michael could feel his heartbeat through his fingertips.  
"Jeremy...be honest with me."  
Jeremy looked up at Michael's face. His brows furrowed, his expression concerned and serious. Jeremy gulped.   
"Do I bring back bad memories? Does being around me make you uncomfortable or unsafe? Is that why you've been all jumpy and weird around me? Because you think I'm going to treat you like it did?"  
Jeremy's worried expression dropped. He was kind of stunned.   
"That... THAT'S THE PART YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT?!?!?"  
"YES, THAT'S LIKE MY MAIN CONCERN LIKE IT USED ME TO MAKE YOU FEEL BAD SO OBVIOUSLY I'D BE SCARED YOU STILL FEEL BA-"  
"GOD YOU ARE So-"Jeremy looked at him, and his shocked expression turned too sweet to handle. His eyes softened, and his cheeks colored pink, and his smile got bigger. Of course, Michael didn't see its a big deal. Of course, Michael identified the much bigger issue. Of course, Michael got concerned and put Jeremy's feelings first. He needed to stop doing that so much. God, Jeremy loved him so so much. It felt so beautiful and so overwhelming he thought he might cry. "-so wonderful~." He cried.   
He let his head fall down limp, using his wrists to wipe the tears.   
"Jere-bear?" Michael chimed. It was a voice so soft it made Jeremy wonder why it made him feel like he could shatter at any moment.  
"Hmm?" Jeremy still didn't look up at him.  
"You know how I said everything the SQUIP said was bullshit?"  
"Yeah."   
"I still mean it... can you look at me?" Michael waited patiently as Jeremy weekly worked up to courage to look him in the eyes. Michael hoped his face seemed comforting.  
"I don't hate you. I don't think you're ugly. Or annoying. I don't think you making a mistake warrant being abused and yelled at. You're not useless. You're not stupid... It used your insecurities against you. It used your past abuse from your mom to make you listen to it. I used your internalized homophobia to make you terrified of my reaction. None of that is your fault. It was awful to you. But you're safe now. Safe from her, safe from it, and I still love you."  
"...and you're okay with me-me liking you?"  
As a response, Michael offered a grin that was part awkward and shy and part that same amusement when Jeremy is oblivious about something very obvious.   
"Jeremy, you confessed to me and possibly the worst timing someone can find."  
Jeremy cringed. "I know." Michael rubbed his arm up and down comfortingly.  
"I understand that you needed to do it. I'm REALLY glad you did, but it's just, it was kinda sudden, and we're both a mess right now...which is why I feel it's okay to reciprocate in an equally horrible timing."  
Jeremy lit up and stared and Michael, hope and joy and confusion filling his chest faster than he could process it.   
"I love you. In an 'oh wow, I want to kiss him` sort of way." Michael chuckled. "I-I'd like t-to kiss you, actually. A lot. J-just not right now. Because we've been talking for a long time and there is a lot of information to process, and I just don't think my brain is ready to digest all that happe-"  
He was cut off by Jeremy jumping into a hug. He threw his arms around Michaels's neck and buried his face deep into Michaels's chest.  
"That's okay, Michael. More than okay- I love you and, and I want to show it any way possible. So if I have to wait, or if I have to let you think about it. I'm more than happy to."  
Michael smiled, wrapping his hands around Jeremy's torso and letting them rest on his back.   
"Thank you." He whispered.  
"Michael...there is quite literally no need to thank me. I'm practically bursting with happiness just because you like me back! I mean!!! YOU!! Micha~" Jeremy exclaimed excitingly, like just saying his name should justify every explanation as to why. But Michael decided not to be picky, instead kissing the top of Jeremy's head and resting his cheek against his curly hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated! <3


End file.
